Windmills and Dandelions
And the magic of community.
Hello there! And welcome to Dandelion Seeds, a hand-drawn newsletter in search of beauty and wonder in the world — from a garden in the winter, to the first crocuses in spring.
Over the past few weeks, I’ve been working on a brand-new illustrated essay series, and my plan was to begin sharing it with you today. But then something unexpected happened.
Two Sunday’s ago, we went on a little roadtrip as a family. Elena has recently become obsessed with windmills and wind turbines, of which there are many in Belgium — especially along the highways. Anytime we spot one while driving, she’ll ask about it for days afterward.
Our conversation normally goes something like this.
Elena: “Where’d it go?”
Me: “The windmill?”
Elena: “Yeah!”
Me: “It’s still there, back by the road.”
And then, not two seconds later, she’ll ask about it again, forever curious about the whereabouts of her beloved windmills.
So on that particular Sunday, Jose read about a historic windmill that was just a half-hour drive from where we live in Antwerp. And even though the windmill wasn’t in operation that day, our time there still came pretty close to magical.
The sun was shining, the birds were singing, and the sky was a perfect shade of blue.
There was Queen Anne’s lace lining the road, there were daisies dotting the grass, and there was a ladybug that had Elena absolutely enthralled by its presence.
And beneath the windmill, and the flowering apple trees that surrounded it, there were dandelions — ripe for the picking, and the wishing.
At the end of the day that Sunday, I opened up Substack on my phone and shared a photo about our latest windmill adventure on Notes. I posted it quickly, just before we went to bed, so you can imagine my astonishment when I woke up and saw that more than 500 people had liked the photo:
But it wasn’t just the likes — I was even more moved by the thoughtful comments people took the time to leave. Someone even shared a poem they’d written just the week before. It was called “Dandelion Seeds,” and naturally, I loved it.
So what I want to share with you today is a little different.
Instead of a new illustrated essay, I’d love to share what I’m thinking of as illustrated gratitude. I’ve hand-lettered a few of your comments from last week, and I hope they’ll speak to you as much as they did to me when I first read them.
Here’s to the magic of windmills and dandelions — and even more, to the magic of community.
With love,
Candace
Thank you again to everyone for your beautiful comments, especially:
Finding Grace of Memories & Epiphanies
Perry J. Greenbaum of
and Tamara of Holoprase
Those of us who love windmills and dandelions (they remain in my yard) share something of your daughter's imagination. It is a beautiful thing--Imagination. It is the creator of stories, of dreams, and, yes, of reality.
I think the world might be divided into those who rigorously remove those invasive weeds from their pristine lawns and gardens and those of us who think them charming and inspiring. So glad you champion those bright faces.